At the King's Pleasure (Secrets of the Tudor Court) (40 page)

Will’s face was flushed when he strode into the room, as if he’d run all the way from the palace. “What is wrong?” he demanded.

Anne resisted the impulse to hurl herself into his arms. “Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything. But I cannot say more unless you give me your word that you will repeat nothing of what I tell you.”

“I would die before I’d betray you, Anne.”

She did not doubt the sincerity she heard in his voice and saw in his clear hazel eyes. He still loved her and supposed she continued to love him, just a little. She knew better than to tell him so. What she would tell him would cause difficulties enough.

“I believe that Cardinal Wolsey is conspiring against my brother the duke,” Anne began. “Edward has said and done one or two foolish things that Wolsey has learned of. Taken together, presented in a certain light, they make Edward seem a traitor.”

“What things?” Will’s eyes had gone hard and cold. Only the continued warmth of his hand over hers as they sat close together beside the hearth reassured her that he would keep her confidences to himself.

“He . . . he listened to the false prophecies of a monk at Hinton Priory. Predictions about the king.”

Will sucked in a breath. “Are you telling me that this monk foresaw King Henry’s death and that your brother knew of it?”

“Edward means the king no harm, Will. You know the way he is—quick-tempered and outspoken. That’s all it was. But certain things he’s said—they might be misinterpreted.”

“If he said them, he meant them at the time. That is all that will matter.”

“The king has forgiven his outbursts in the past.”

“But it is not the king you fear, is it? It is the cardinal.”

Heartsick, she nodded. “Why does he despise us so, Will—you, me, George, and Edward? You know he was behind the trouble your wife caused at the Field of Cloth of Gold. But what have any of us ever done to him?”

“We exist. Your brother has royal blood. I have the king’s favor. You and George simply have the misfortune to have ties to us both. Thomas
Wolsey is jealous of anyone he perceives as a rival and is bent on bringing about our downfall.”

“He cannot be allowed to do so. I know you do not like Edward, Will, but you two have a common enemy. You must find a way to help my brother.”

Abruptly, Will released her hands and stood. “I would die for you, Anne. You know that. But there is nothing I can do for the Duke of Buckingham.” He ran agitated fingers through his hair, leaving the golden brown locks in disarray.

Stunned, she stared at him. She had been so certain he would help her. “But you have influence with the king, Will. You are his closest personal servant. You have access to His Grace that no one else has.” He could whisper suggestions in King Henry’s ear in the privacy of the king’s secret lodgings.

But Will was shaking his head. He avoided meeting her eyes. “I cannot act against the cardinal in any way. It is too dangerous. You do not understand just
how
dangerous.”

“Then tell me. Let us work together to find a way around the danger.”

His smile was bittersweet. “Ah, Anne—after so many years at court, how can you still be such an innocent?”

“You, more than most, know I am hardly that!”

“My love, even were you to offer me again what I desire most in this world, I would have to refuse to help you save your brother.”

She rose in a rush, temper flaring at the insult. Will Compton had disappointed her yet again. She was as angry at herself as she was at him. She
had
been naïve. He was no chivalrous knight ready to ride to her rescue. How could she have forgotten the lesson she’d learned so many years ago at Littlemore? Face flaming, seething inside, she retrieved her fur cloak and fled.

Outside, she was surprised to discover that the sun had nearly set. The path leading back to the palace was wreathed in shadows. Half blinded by temper and her vision further obscured by the twilight, she did not realize that she was not alone among the trees until a large, dark figure stepped in front of her. She ran straight into his solid bulk.
Hard hands gripped her shoulders. Only at the last moment before she screamed did she recognize him and stifle the sound.

“George!” she gasped, breathless with surprise and confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I should think that was obvious,” her husband said in a cold voice rife with disgust. “I am fetching back my adulterous wife.”

T
he moment he spoke, George regretted his hasty words. Anne stiffened in his grasp and the muffled sound she made reminded him of the cry of a wounded bird. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, wishing he could make the last few moments disappear.

“Christ aid, Anne!” he whispered as he stroked one hand down the back of her cloak. “You are married to a jealous fool. I know I had no reason to make such an accusation. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me for one single instant of doubt?”

She hesitated just long enough to have him in despair. “Your jealousy is unwarranted, George, but I
have
been keeping something secret from you. In that, I have been as foolish as you.”

Keeping one arm around her shoulders, he started to walk back toward the palace. Darkness was almost complete. Only the torches burning in the distance showed them the way. “We will retire to our lodgings and send the servants away. Then we will have honesty between us.”

When they were alone in their inner chamber, George sat on the side of their bed and patted the space beside him. Anne joined him there without hesitation, but she folded her lower limbs beneath her,
tailor fashion, and faced him, rather than leaning against his side as he had expected. Then she told him everything she had been keeping from him. The whole story poured out, starting with a letter she’d written to Thomas Wolsey more than ten years earlier and ending with the return of Madge Geddings to the Duke of Buckingham’s household.

“And Compton?” he prompted when she finally stopped speaking.

“At first I thought he might know something of what the king and the cardinal have planned. Then I hoped he’d be able to help Edward.”

“Help him?” George looked at her askance. “Anne, your brother threatened to kill the king. He boasted of having men who would support an attempt to seize the Crown. Even if he never does more than that, he has already committed treason.”

“But perhaps the king does not know it yet. Cardinal Wolsey has had his suspicions for a long time and yet he has done nothing. And once Edward leaves on pilgrimage, he will be safe.”

“It’s no good, Anne. Buckingham has brought disaster down upon himself. It is not a question of whether Wolsey will strike, but only when. Your brother will not be allowed to leave the country.”

“I never meant this to happen. When I wrote that letter, I wanted to avenge the death of our son by revealing the prioress’s sinful secrets.” Her face was a mask of misery. “I did not even succeed in my first objective. I have made inquiries. In spite of the bishop’s visitation—and that
years
after my complaint—nothing has changed at Littlemore. Dame Katherine still rules over her handful of nuns with an iron hand.”

“I should never have taken you there.”

“You could not have known what would happen.”

“Nor could you guess that revealing your brother’s support of a priory would have dire consequences.”

She choked back a sob. “That careless addition to my letter could end up costing Edward his life!”

“Anne, Edward committed treason all on his own—you did not force him to listen to those prophecies, nor did you place his hand on his dagger and tell him he should threaten to stab the king.”

“What are we to do, George?”

He hesitated, then plunged ahead. “What did Compton say?”

“He refused to help.”

“How much did you tell him?”

“Not as much as I’ve told you. Just that Cardinal Wolsey is plotting to ruin my brother. And I swore him to secrecy. He’ll not betray me.”

“No,” George agreed, “I do not think he will.” He prayed they were right about that. Anne herself could be arrested for treason if the cardinal realized how much she knew. So could he. So could Compton.

“The past always seems to come back to haunt us,” she murmured.

He wondered if she meant his jealousy or her letter, but it scarce mattered. The only thing that did was keeping Anne safe. They needed to distance themselves from the duke.

“Oh,” she said suddenly, startling him. “I have just remembered something. The king once promised me a boon. We were hunting, during the summer following our return to court. His Grace sought me out to ride side by side for a bit. I do not recall exactly what he said to me, but it reminded me of how helpless I had been at Littlemore, with no resources of my own. I told King Henry that I thought it most unfair that everything a wife brings to her marriage becomes the property of her husband when they wed.”

“You said that to the king?” George marveled at her boldness. . . or her foolishness. He could not decide which.

“I believe my outspokenness amused him. In any case, he offered me a loan from the privy purse, should I ever find myself in need of funds again. When I told him I did not wish to be in his debt, he asked if I would accept an outright gift. I fear I found his attitude condescending. To put an end to the discussion, I suggested that he permit me to ask a boon at some later date. His Grace agreed.” Hope bloomed brightly in her dark eyes. “I have never collected that boon, George. King Henry owes it to me still.”

“He has doubtless forgotten that he ever made such a promise.”

“I am surprised that I remember it so well,” Anne admitted. “I do not believe I gave the matter another thought after that day. But if I remind His Grace of the encounter, surely he will honor his word.”

“And if he does—what will you ask for?”

“A pardon for Edward,” she said at once.

Panic made his hands clammy. “Promise me you will say nothing yet, Anne. Do nothing yet.”

“But Edward is in danger.”

“We cannot be certain of that, and to speak too soon may make matters worse for him.”
And for us,
he added silently. Anne must not put herself at risk. He had to find the words to convince her that there was no need for precipitous action. “I have heard not the slightest rumor of any action planned against your brother, nor a single hint that he is plotting against the Crown. I doubt Compton has, either. You know he would help you, no matter what he
said
and no matter the cost to him. The poor fool is still horribly in love with you.”

“I do not understand why.” That Anne sounded frustrated by Compton’s continued devotion pleased George no end. “I give him no encouragement. I much regret that I ever did.”

“You are no more responsible for Compton’s obsession with you than you are for Buckingham’s treason. But, between us, we may be able to think of a way to mitigate the damage. I will talk to him. To Compton, I mean.”

Anne flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, banishing thoughts of anyone but her. “Oh, I do love you, George. And I swear I will never keep anything from you again.”

For the rest of the night, they concentrated on each other and did not speak again of Will Compton, the Duke of Buckingham, Cardinal Wolsey, or the king.

F
rom behind a copse of trees, Sir William Compton and his companions watched the Duke of Buckingham set out for court. A summons from King Henry had been delivered by a royal messenger the previous day. Will’s horse shifted restlessly, sensing his rider’s tension.

“How far back must we stay?” asked his servant. The king had sent a party of a half-dozen men, several of them in royal livery, to keep a close eye on the duke’s progress.

“Well out of sight,” Will replied. “We are to follow Buckingham but not overtake him.” Unless, he added silently, the duke made a run for the nearest port to take ship out of England.

It seemed more likely that Lady Anne’s brother had no inkling of the fate that awaited him in London. He gave no evidence of concern. En route, he stopped at all the usual places to break his journey. He even took the time to visit the monastery of Reading and make an offering at the shrine there.

Long days in the saddle gave Will too much time to think. He brooded. Both the letter summoning the duke to court and Will’s own orders to keep the ducal entourage in sight during the journey had ostensibly come from the king. Will knew better. Cardinal Wolsey was
behind both. He could almost find it in his heart to pity Buckingham. The duke had railed too long, too loud, and too often against the cardinal. Even when the two men appeared to be allies, Buckingham had derided Wolsey for his humble origins. Now the butcher’s son meant to have his revenge.

Since Lady Anne’s visit to his house at Greenwich, Will had tried to stay out of the duke’s troubles. George Hastings had made repeated overtures, seeking his assistance. Will had evaded every one. In the end, it had done him no good.
Wolsey
wanted him involved, and the cardinal had the means to compel Will’s cooperation.

Will tried to avoid thinking of Lady Anne, but it was impossible. His heart ached, the pain as physical as a stab wound, with the knowledge that his refusal to help her brother had cost him whatever small hope he might have had of winning her back.

Still, he knew he had done the right thing. The only thing. By the time she’d come to him, it had already been too late to save Buckingham. Will hadn’t known that then, but he had known that to go against the cardinal would have hurt Lady Anne. Barely a week before her visit to his little house in the park at Greenwich, Cardinal Wolsey had laid his cards on the table.

“I have a duty,” Wolsey had said, “as a prelate of mother church, to bring charges against those who commit the sin of adultery, no matter how high their rank. Even a baroness can be brought before the church courts and made to suffer the full penalty under church law. A woman, even a noblewoman, can be forced to do penance in public in her shift, her crime written upon a paper affixed to her forehead.”