The Secret: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (Tudor Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  ***

  George opened the door to Anne’s room and let her pass in front of him, then closed the door and locked it carefully behind him, having first checked them unobserved from the corridor. There was no-one nearby. The servants were busy clearing away and getting things ready for morning downstairs, and the Lisles were in their own wing of the fortress.

  Anne swiftly turned and flung herself into his arms, hands either side of his face, kissing him frantically. He caught her hands gently and bent his head. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked softly. ‘You have held yourself from Henry for all these years, declaring your virtue is being kept for your husband. Now you want this? Are you sure you want this?’ He gestured to their bodies, pressed together from shoulder to hip.

  ‘I’ve always wanted this,’ Anne whispered, ‘and if I have to give myself to Henry, and I will have to, and soon, I want something for myself first. To help me bear it.’ Her lips again found his and they kissed passionately, greedily drinking in one another as if parched.

  No more hiding behind courtly love, circumspect kisses on the hand or cheek; tonight, for this one night, they could be as they had longed to be – everything, each to the other.

  George’s hand gently stroked Anne’s sleeve from her shoulder and he buried his head in the curve of her neck, kissing her jaw and the sensitive skin beneath her ear. ‘You have too many clothes on, my love.’ His other hand started to undo the laces at the back of her sapphire silk gown, as she gasped under his touch, trying to force the silver clasps of his doublet apart with fingers that would not do her bidding.

  She managed to shrug out of her sleeves without untying them at the top, and the silk pooled at her feet. Anne undid the ties of her petticoats at her front, then she was clad only in her fine lawn shift while George pulled off his boots and unlaced the sides on his breeches, sweeping them from his body in swift movements.

  Anne crept back into his arms and resumed kissing him as she untied the laces on the front of his shirt, sneaking her little hands inside as soon as she could, finally touching the flesh of his chest and shoulders, marvelling at the power of the muscles flexing beneath her fingers. Horsemanship and prowess with the sword had developed George’s shoulders and arms, and Anne was astounded at the strength she felt there. He swept her up as if she weighed less than nothing and carried her to the bed, laying her gently on the coverlet.

  Anne reached up for him, suddenly cold without the heat of his body near hers. He looked at her quizzically, raising his brows in question. Anne smiled her answer, ‘Please, George,’ and suddenly he was with her again, kissing her with unbridled passion that she returned in equal measure. His hand swept up her leg, moving her shift out if his way as if it were gossamer. He grasped her thigh and she moved her position under him, parting her thighs invitingly and he moved his fingers towards her centre. She was warm and damp, ready for him.

  Anne knew he was aware that she was still a virgin, and she also had every confidence that he would take his time and be careful with her, but as she kissed him with such passion, her tongue teasing his mouth and lips, darting quickly round, she felt his mind lose focus. She tilted her hips to accommodate him more easily, and then used her hand to guide him into her. She felt him take a long breath and then as he gently entered her, she felt the tension in his muscles as he was trying his utmost to hold back, not to hurt her, not to ……!

  All thought left her mind. All she had were feelings – and this felt so wonderful. As he found his rhythm, she more than matched him, and they swept each other up and up, kissing and touching and moaning and breathing their love for each other, until they swept over the edge and she could feel herself pulsating beneath him as he pulsed into her.

  It wasn’t until their breathing quieted and she was in his arms, head pillowed on his chest and tiny hand clasped in his that her thoughts cleared. What had they done? More importantly, what did they do now?

  Anne moved gently against him, kissing his chest and moving her hand further down his body until he gasped. As he kissed her lips passionately and they again began their dance of love she decided that she would think of a solution in the morning. This night was theirs, and it might be all they had. It would belong to them.

  Chapter 12 - 1532

  nne groaned as the curtains were pushed open at the window to her chamber, flooding the room with sunlight, and buried her head in her pillows. She could hear the voice of her sister Mary urging her to awake, and the clatter of buckets and slopping sounds as the scullery maids brought water for her to bathe. She stretched languorously, opening her eyes and looking around her bedchamber. Suddenly she sat bolt upright, memories of the night before crowding into her mind, and her gaze searched the chamber for any evidence from the passion the room had witnessed the previous evening.

  ‘Well, sister! Good to know you are awake.’ Mary bustled round, gathering discarded clothing from the floor. ‘Did Cousin Honor not spare you a maid to help you undress last eve?’

  Mary picked up Anne’s white stockings with the beribboned garters still attached from where they had carelessly been flung. Anne was relieved that she had had the presence of mind to don her night shift when George had quietly left the bed as the earliest streaks of dawn had greyed the sky. At least she wasn’t completely naked in bed as she watched the servants fill the tub for her bath.

  ‘We were late to bed, Mary, and I knew the maids would be up at daybreak to get us ready for the tourney.’ Anne swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to find her slippers. There they were, near the door. Her face flamed as she remembered them dropping from her feet when George lifted her up and claimed his first heated kiss. She padded across and slipped them on, hoping her sister hadn’t noticed their distance from the bed.

  ‘Late up too!’ stated Mary tartly. ‘Come on, Anne. We must take our seats at the jousting before Henry and King Francis arrive. A quick bath and then we must get you ready. I’ll go and lay out your linens and gown while you climb in the tub. If you need help with your hair, I’ll send Madge to you.’

  ‘No, I’ll be perfectly fine,’ declared Anne, twisting her long dark hair up into tortoiseshell combs to keep it dry. She desperately wanted time alone to make sure there were no tell-tale marks from their love-making – she just hoped George hadn’t marked her in his passionate enthusiasm. And she wanted to wash herself privately in case the loss of her virginity had left its own evidence. She sank into the warm, sweet smelling water and sighed heavily, luxuriating in the sensation on her skin.

  The passion she had shared with George last night was everything she had ever hoped it would be. He was a gentle, considerate lover, and he had given her as much pleasure as she had given him. His muffled moans into her throat and breasts had told her that she had pleased him, and he had amazed her! She hadn’t realised how pleasurable the act of love would be. It was keeping it a secret that caused her pain, not the act itself.

  Madge Shelton hurried into the room with warmed linens to dry her with, as she finished washing herself carefully and then rose to be dried and dressed. Inside she kept her excitement hidden; she would see George again soon, and she would keep her eyes lowered when she saw Henry, lest he guess her secret.

  ***

  Anne’s gown for the joust was blood-red, with a cloth of gold under gown and linings to her sleeves, which fell over her hand as usual. Her hood was edged with pearls, as was the neckline of her gown, and she wore a double strand round her slender neck, together with her signature ‘B’, also hung with pearl droplets. At her waist was a girdle of gold, from which hung her tablet, and she had gold and ruby rings on her fingers. She looked magnificent, and a suitable companion for the King of England. She knew Henry would be proud of how she looked, and she raised her head slightly higher; she had a part to play today. Anne came out
of her chambers and led her ladies, themselves dressed in silks and velvets of every colour of the rainbow, down to the waiting carriages.

  The tilt-yard was crowded with people, both peasant and noble, and the noise was intense. There were stilt-walkers, jugglers and fire-eaters all performing for the populace, and the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine was intoxicating. Vendors were shouting their wares and the people were loudly cheering the announcements of the pairings for the joust.

  Anne climbed the steps to the platform where she and her ladies would watch the jousting, remembering the time when she had been at the other celebration as one of the younger maids of Queen Claude. She thought back to how excited she had been to see George after their years apart. They had been apart this time for a matter of hours, but her heart was beating even more excitedly in her chest than all those years ago at the prospect of seeing him again in the next few moments. Marguerite, the current mistress of King Francis appeared with her own ladies and they also took their seats to wait for the parade of knights and horses that preceded the jousting. Anne watched the stable entrance anxiously.

  A fanfare of trumpets sounded and all the knights, clad in armour polished to a blinding sparkle, rode into the lists, stopping in front of the platform where Anne and the others were sitting. They doffed their helmets, and Anne saw Henry and Francis in the front rank, then the bright head of George. Her heart began to pound in her breast. Tom Wyatt was there, his usual sardonic expression on his face as he smiled at her, Harry Norris, blonde curls springing as he bowed, Tom Weston, hair messy and not improved by the removal of his helmet, and their friend, a quiet older man with unfashionably short cropped hair called Will Brereton, who had the powerful shoulders and implacable gaze of a natural soldier. They all bowed and called for favours from the ladies. Anne tied a ribbon to Henry’s lance, and Mary tied hers to Tom Wyatt’s. Madge gave both Tom Weston and Harry Norris her favour, which resulted in a lot of cat-calls and laughter from the other knights. Anne found another ribbon from her bodice and got to her feet.

  ‘As your wife isn’t here to give you her favour, brother, you will have to make do with mine,’ she called to George. He looked at her silently for a moment and their eyes met. Anne had seen the hurt in his gaze as she gave her favour to Henry, but she dropped her eyes to tie her ribbon carefully around his lance.

  ‘Yes, Rochford, you’ll have to endure your sister’s good wishes, instead of your wife’s,’ boomed Henry, laughingly taking the ribbon Anne had given him and tucking it inside his breastplate.

  ‘Always, Your Majesty,’ replied George quietly, taking Anne’s ribbon and holding it to his lips for a moment before placing it inside his armour next to his heart. Henry and the others neither heard his words nor saw the gesture, as they were turning back to the stables to learn the order of jousting. Only Anne, unable to break the hold his eyes had on hers, saw what he had done. Anne sat back down and began to fan herself; the heat of the day was rising but that wasn’t the reason she felt overwarm! The French knights all had their ladies’ favours and the jousting was about to begin. Anne gazed towards the tilt-yard, seeing nothing and lost in her own thoughts.

  She didn’t know how she would bear being without George at her side when they returned to England. She also knew how dangerous their behaviour last night had been. What if she was already with child? George’s child? They had been heedless of consequences in the passion of the moment, George spilling his seed inside her more than once during their blissful night together. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered his hands, his lips, his….. She fanned herself again. A plan formed in her mind. She knew what she must do after the banquet tonight, to keep their secret. Anne turned her gaze back to the tourney and blinked away the threat of tears.

  The jousting took up most of the day, and both Henry and George won their bouts. Francis won his tilt and there was much merriment on the platform and in the royal camps. A banquet had been arranged within the walls of Calais, and Anne, who had surprised herself by getting along with Francis’s mistress Marguerite, was enjoying the festivities.

  Henry was in a convivial mood, as he always was when he had won. He drank copious amounts of wine and insisted on dancing every dance, either with Anne, Marguerite, Mary or any of the other ladies who were honoured to dance with the King. Anne danced with Francis in her turn, and then George led her onto the floor.

  ‘Enjoying yourself, sister?’ he asked tightly, voice harder than it usually was when he spoke to her.

  ‘Must I not, brother?’ Anne responded, raising her brows. ‘Am I to be miserable then?’ They turned in the dance, then came together again. ‘I must be the same towards him, must I not? Nothing has changed as far as he knows.’

  George sighed, then clasped Anne’s slender hand in his own larger one as they danced. ‘I am sorry, my love. Last night I put it out of my mind, but in the light of day I can see how our lives must be.’ He paused as the dance took them apart from one another, then brought them back. ‘Of course, we must both be the same to him. I see that. But knowing that, and then living it in reality is….. hard.’

  ‘Hard for me too, brother. And I shall soon have to submit to him, in every way.’ Anne’s eyes fell, but not before she had seen the hard line of George’s mouth and the intensity of his gaze.

  ‘Is that what it will be, my love? Submission?’

  Anne looked at George as she turned in the dance. The dance would be over soon, and she had to make him understand what she had to do. ‘Only submission,’ she replied. ‘it will never be otherwise after last night. You have taken my heart and everything I have to give. There is nothing left for him or anyone else! Just you. Always you. Only you!’ Anne swept a graceful curtsey as the music ended, and George bowed elegantly, then took her hand to return her to the side of the King.

  ‘And I, sister,’ he whispered, kissing her fingers before he left to join the raucous group his friends had become, drinking wine and flirting outrageously with the French maids of honour. ‘Only you, from last night until my last night.’ He turned from her as she gasped at the heat in his words and she watched him walk away, taller than most others of the court, broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs. She wanted to weep.

  Instead she also turned, towards Henry, with her brightest smile on her lips and in her eyes. She took Henry’s goblet out of his hand and drained it herself, swallowing firmly then handing the cup to a serving maid hovering nearby. She sank to the floor in a low curtsey, and whispered, ‘Dance with me, my Lord,’ looking up at Henry through her lashes with promise in her eyes.

  Henry, full of wine and bonhomie, almost fell over at the look she gave him and bustled her quickly onto the dance floor, signalling to the musicians to play something slow and romantic, that didn’t involve a change of partner.

  He clasped her small hand which disappeared completely in his large one, ‘You look beautiful in that gown tonight, sweeting.’

  ‘Thank you Sire,’ Anne kept her voice low so he had to bend over her to hear, ‘I hope I look as beautiful to you later tonight,’ she drew a breath and swallowed hard, ‘without my gown.’

  Henry straightened up to his full height, gasping loudly and promptly lost his footing in the next steps of the dance. Anne stopped twirling and smiled at him. His eyes widened as he took her meaning, then grabbed her in a firm embrace. ‘You will, sweetheart!’ he exclaimed excitedly. ‘By God, you will!’ He took her arm firmly and immediately marched her over to King Francis to take their leave. Anne took the opportunity of these pleasantries to avail herself of another cup of wine from the servants. As she quickly gulped it down, she saw George watching her from across the room, heartbreak in his green eyes. Anne raised her head and squared her shoulders. She had a task in front of her tonight, she thought, and she couldn’t afford to think of her own sorrow.

 
‘Come, sweeting,’ commanded Henry, taking Anne’s hand as they left the room. She smiled up at Henry, and managed to avoid George’s gaze as they made their way to Henry’s suite of rooms.

  ***

  Anne moved towards the side table in Henry’s chamber and poured them both a large goblet of wine, then she picked them up and took them across to Henry.

  ‘To us, my Lord,’ she whispered, drinking deeply from her goblet. Henry drained his own in two swallows.

  ‘Why now, sweeting?’ he asked, the amount of wine he had consumed making his voice louder than he intended. ‘I have wanted you for these long years, but you always denied me. So, why now?’ He looked at her with the intense gaze of the very drunk.

  ‘I’m tired of waiting,’ sighed Anne. ‘You have been so patient with me all this time. I’m sure Thomas Cromwell will think of a plan so we can be married, but I’m simply tired of waiting. Aren’t you tired of waiting too, my Lord?’ she smiled up at him, eyes wide.

  ‘I don’t want to wait any longer, sweeting,’ he declared, then grabbing her waist he kissed her hard on the mouth and walked her backwards towards the bed.

  Chapter 13 - 1532

  nne lay on her side as still and as quiet as she could, with her cheek pillowed on her hand, and watched the grey streaks of dawn dapple the sky. Beside her she could hear Henry’s stentorian breathing.

  Her thoughts chased each other round her mind as she remembered Henry’s perfunctory lovemaking, a few kisses, a few thrusts, another kiss and then he rolled off her and went to sleep. It certainly hadn’t been how she imagined it would be. It was nothing compared to the joy and satisfaction she had found in the arms of George the previous night! Then she began to feel relieved; if that was all there was to expect, then she could easily endure it. Anne didn’t even think it had occurred to Henry in his haste and enthusiasm that she had purported to be a virgin.